


Morning/Tender

by foxybadger42



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-21
Updated: 2013-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-24 06:21:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxybadger42/pseuds/foxybadger42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morning: What my character would say if they woke up in bed next to yours.<br/>Tender: I will write some sweet fluff between our characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning/Tender

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Story is mine. G. Lestrade and Mycroft Holmes belongs to Sir Conan Doyle. BBC Sherlock and Holly Hooper to the BBC. No profit made. Just for fun

Mycroft is the early riser of the two of them. Greg likes to lay in on his days off and groans whenever his alarm goes off. Whatever day it is, Mycroft is always up and about long before Greg opens his eyes in the morning.

Even when they are on their holiday in Weston, he can hear the rattling of the keyboard coming from downstairs.

This was what it was always like. There was no way Mycroft could just lay down his work and enjoy a weekend away with him. He knew, while he slept, Mycroft would wake up early and work, sending important e-mails and making a few phone calls to keep the country running.

Greg worries about the pressure of Mycroft’s work, but he knew getting Mycroft out of the city was already quite an achievement, so he doesn’t complain.

Checking the alarm clock on the nightstand, he groans. It is only 7a.m. But that nagging feeling of his full bladder forces him to get up and get rid of nature’s call. He empties his bladder and pads back to the bed, crawling underneath the sheets again and falling asleep instantly once more.

When he wakes up again, he is aware of the warmth of the bed. At first, he thinks it’s the sunlight coming through a crack in the curtains. But when he opens his eyes, he looks directly into Mycroft’s blue ones.

‘How was work?’ he sheepishly croons as he closes his eyes again, a weak smile spreading his lips.

‘Tedious, as usual,’ Mycroft responds to the sarcasm with his own. ‘I consider it a good thing I have you only a flight of stairs away on a dreadful day like today.’

‘Dreadful?’ Greg asks, as he opens his eyes again and yawns. ‘Did David say something irresponsible again?’

‘You know everything the Prime Minister says is planned and written out in advance.’

Greg only hums, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. He and Mycroft never talk politics, and with good reasons. He wasn’t going to allow some political disagreement have any effect on their relationship.

‘And yet,’ Mycroft continues with a quirk of his eyebrows. ‘Sometimes things that are not scripted do come out of his mouth and then I’m the one to deal with the consequences.’

‘And you do it very well,’ Greg croons again as he leans closer, kissing Mycroft on his cheekbone before resting his head on his pillow again. ‘Want to go to the beach again today?’

‘This house is a hundred yards removed from the sea, Gregory. We are already at the beach.’

‘Christ,’ Greg sighs and rolls his eyes. ‘You know very well what I’m talking about.’

‘I do and I would very much like it as long as we take the parasol. My skin – unlike yours – doesn’t like being in the sun for too long,’ he says as he wrinkles his nose, looking at his own shoulder which has reddened quite badly. And that was only from a short swim late in the afternoon yesterday!

Greg chuckles as he lightly runs his fingers over Mycroft’s sunburnt arm.

‘Careful,’ Mycroft warns him. ‘It’s quite painful.’

‘Oh stop whining,’ Greg comments as he leans in again, his lips close to Mycroft’s but denying him a kiss by adding: ‘We’re on holiday.’

‘Then why should it be acceptable that I’m in pain on my holiday?’

Greg stares at his partner before groaning and resting his head against Mycroft’s shoulder.

‘It’s always something, isn’t it?’ he moans, followed by a chuckle. He lifts up his head and kisses Mycroft’s reddened shoulder before resting his cheek against it. ‘How about I fetch the aftersun for you?’

‘That would be very much appreciated.’


End file.
